Moonlighting
by okurerusakura
Summary: A series of murders lead the team into uncharted undercover waters, and for two of the team members, maybe just a little bit more.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there loyal readers! I needed a break from the serious stories I've had a taste for as of late, and wanted to have a little fun with a lusty lil case fic! It's gonna be a multi chap, so strap in for the ride and hilarity! I've dug a few characters out of NCIS past to play, but per the usual I own nothing but my ideas! Enjoy!**

The limo pulled up to the curb and idled as the driver hurried from his seat to the door, unleashing his passengers into the warm June air. Five women laughed, whispered, and checked their reflections in the windows as they exited before making their way to the heavy wooden door. They found themselves in an entry way between two doors, acting as a buffer between the warmer, natural temperature outside and the regulated, cooler temperature inside.

Ziva stood just inside the dimly lit entry way, the murmurs of excited voices and quiet music just beyond the second door filling her ears. Her hands tugged lightly at and adjusted the sequined, white material, as Abby adjusted the veil one last time to assure it was securely in place for the festivities that lie ahead. Wild curls fell from under the veil and around her face, her makeup heavier than usual. "Do you have the ring, Abby?"

Abby reached into her clutch, passing the bejeweled band to Ziva while reaching for the door and turning to the group, "Ready ladies?"

She pulled the door open allowing their small group to pour into the dark room cheering loudly, Ziva the loudest, "I'm getting married! WOOOOOOO!"

The barback stifled a chuckle as he walked towards the women, whose squealing turned to excited screams after Ziva's cheering. "Good evening ladies, is this the Thompson Party?"

Abby stepped forward, eyeballing his bare chest and torso appreciatively before speaking in a double entendre, "Oh yes! We have...come...for the show."

He gulped uncomfortably before responding, "I'll show you to your table, but first, for the bride to be..."

He reached behind him, pulling a shot off of a tray on the edge of the bar, handing it to Ziva. The excitable women whistled and cheered at an excruciating decibel and high pitch while she threw back the drink, slamming the shot glass back on to the bar before throwing her hands in the air and letting out an enthusiastic yell, "LAST FLING BEFORE THE RING!"

The barback laughed lightly as Ziva thrust an engagement ring clad hand in the air, which was almost overpowered by the large, plastic, blinking ring adorning the finger next to it. Women unknown to them in the room stared and clamored happily and drunkenly for the bachelorette they didn't know. Most of the women who now watched their party smiled at the tightly and scantly clad group who had pink plastic shot glasses and whistles on pink beads around their necks, and were obviously enjoying their night out. The barback returned their attention to him, "Follow me, ladies."

Ziva followed him as she walked and danced in her heels playfully to the dull beat of background music while surveying the room. They carefully worked their way around chairs filled with eager bodies. Abby, Megan Hanley, Nikki Jardine, and Cassie Yates were trailing closely behind before they stopped at a table so close to the stage that they might as well have been sitting directly on it. He picked up the reserved sign as he spoke, "I'll be back in just a minute with your bottle service."

Ziva's voice poured loudly from her mouth as she bounced in her seat, "Oh. My. God. Bottle service? You are the best maid of honor and bridesmaids ever!"

Cassie laughed, "We'd say it's going to be a night you'll never forget, but after all this booze I don't think you'll remember anything!"

Nikki pulled a napkin from her purse, wiping the seat vigorously before Megan leaned over, whispering forcefully, "Would you just sit down. That is not the way us single ladies want to attract attention tonight!"

They all watched Nikki tense as she slid into the seat and adjusted the plastic sash that said 'Bridesmaid' so it was perfectly centered. Their attention was quickly turned back towards the adorable barback, who had returned and was now placing several bottles, glasses, a tray of fruity garnishes, and carafes of mixers in the center of their table. Abby leaned provocatively across the table, a twenty dollar bill wavering in her hand as she whispered loudly, "And what is your name, sexy?"

Gibbs nearly choked on his coffee as he listened to the conversation and watched via the veil cam's feed in the comm van parked two blocks away. His team had always managed to be extremely convincing in these situations. He prayed silently to a higher being that it was just their dedication to getting the job done as he continued to watch and listen. He really didn't want to think about whether or not their undercover behavior was any reflection of their lives outside of work, but for now he had to address the look he was getting from the lead Metro Detective, "What?"

"They do a pretty thorough acting job, yeah?"

A curt nod from Gibbs effectively ended the conversation as he turned his attention back to the veil cam and audio feed, listening as the barback answered Abby's question, "It's Sam, my name is Sam."

She slurred and dragged out her words purposefully as she swayed back and forth, "Wellllll I've got sommmmthin' for ya..."

Sam smiled and played along, thrusting his hips playfully towards the her as the crisp twenty was pushed into the waistband of his pants. Feminine hoots and hollers filled the area around their table as they watched Abby's hand linger and her tongue dart out to lick her lips. He took a step back once she had made her deposit, "Now you beautiful ladies know my name. So, if you need _anything _tonight, let me know."

He blinked before turning on his heels, Gibbs voice filled his ears as he walked back to the bar, "You don't get to keep the tips, McGee."

McGee squatted behind the bar, stacking glasses back under the marble counter as he whispered, "I know that, but you might want to remind Tony."


	2. Chapter 2

Four days prior, Ziva squatted next to a sailor's body, the shutter of her camera opening and closing with purpose. Gibbs voice called McGee to join him on the other side of the parking lot. Ziva watched as they began to bag and tag every scrap of trash and material on the ground near the sole car that remained in the lot. There was no way he had consumed enough coffee yet to tolerate Tony's incessant chattering at this hour, which would explain why he was now sauntering in Ziva's direction. He saddled up to her side, looming over her and the seaman. "Morning Ziiiivah."

"And why are you so chippy this morning, Tony?"

"Chipper, I am chipper."

"Avoiding my question?"

"No, I think it's the cold, early morning air...makes me extra awake."

"And here I thought it might have been some barely legal co-ed making you so...chipper."

A sarcastic laugh fell from his lips, "I think I'm a little too mature and sophisticated for co-eds now."

He cast his eyes down in her direction, past his clipboard where he was now making notes of the crime scenes measurements. Her focus remained on the body as she responded, "Ha. I will believe it when I see it."

Ziva leaned down closer to the body, snapping a picture. The light of dawn began to filter into the parking lot, literally shedding a new light on the crime scene. The camera pulled away from her face and she moved closer to the body, squinting as she looked at the victim's face and neck, "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is he sparkling like a Cullen?"

An exasperated huff left him, "What did I tell you about watching Twilight, Ziva? That is not cinema!"

"I did not watch it, I read it."

"Either way, that is _not_ okay."

"Tony! Focus!"

He rolled his eyes and squatted next to her, his face contorting briefly as his knees betrayed him, audibly cracking and popping. He leaned in for a closer inspection, "Is that body glitter?"

"I was unsure, that is why I asked you. Are you not an expert in these things...body glitter, honey dust..."

His head snapped in her direction, "If I remember correctly, I'm not the only one here familiar with honey dust."

"Familiar yes, expert no."

He winked and jokingly licked his lips as she stood and scoffed, "Pig."

A Scottish brogue broke their playfully heated banter, "Tony. Ziva. Who do we have here?"

Tony looked up and up-righted himself so they both stood opposite Ducky over the body. He decided to take the lead, "Seaman Jonah Wells. Was found by an employee of the convenience store on the corner at the end of her shift. Appears that he was strangled with a foreign object, judging by the bruising around his neck. Probably was caught off guard or it was someone he knew since it doesn't look like there are a lot of defensive wounds."

"At this time I would have to agree, Anthony. At least until we get him back to autopsy and have a thorough examination."

Ducky knelt beside the body, inserting the liver probe. Ziva decided to opt for a second opinion regarding the sparkling Seaman, "Ducky, may I ask what you make of substance on his face and neck? Tony and I suspect that it might be body glitter."

"Hmmm..."

Ziva squatted to the doctor's eye level, watching as he began moving closer to the body for a better inspection. He pulled the liver probe from Seaman Wells and started a mental calculation as he spoke, "Well, I do not think that our friend was making arts and crafts in a parking lot at two o'clock in the morning. It is a safe deduction that it is indeed some sort of aesthetic glitter."

Palmer broke into the conversation as he pushed a gurney towards the scene, "Well it looks like he's not have a good morning."

A smirk played across his face before Ducky admonished him, "Mr. Palmer!"

Tony and Ziva bent their heads down and turned slightly away to hide the light smiles they were gracing at Jimmy's expense. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he fumbled out a brief apology and spread a tarp next to the body.

XXX

Abby stood at the metal table in her lab as she sorted through the contents of Seaman Wells' car, specifically a duffle bag that had been found in the backseat. She looked over a pair of cargo pants that were definitely not Department of Defense issued, sprawling them out onto the table after noting the suspicious seams. Her hand reached back into the bag, pulling a scrap of silky red, white, and blue material out. "Oh, I'm so glad I'm wearing gloves..."

She held the material in front of her face, stretching the waist band in her grasp, feeling it snap out of her grip as Gibbs' voice pulled her from her thoughts, "Whadya got, Abby?"

She watched in horror, unable to move as the patriotically themed thong flew towards the doorway, slapping Tony in the face. Gibbs eyes held Abby's terrified gaze as Tony squirmed and jumped and Ziva let out an amused gasp, covering her mouth with her hand in attempt to hid the fit of laughter that was desperately trying to escape her body. Tony squirmed in disgust as hushed words left him, "Abs, please for the love of god and all that is holy tell me that I did not just get hit in the face by what I think that is."

She cringed, "Sorry, no can do Tony."

"That's what I thought. Boss, can I go hit the showers?"

"No."

Gibbs strode over to the table, setting a CafPow down. Ziva followed closely behind, looking over her shoulder to see Tony forcefully scrubbing his face with a dry paper towel. She whispered loudly, "Oh my god, Tony. I am sure it was clean."

He spit out through his teeth, "Let's rub it on your face and see if you think it was."

Their banter was broken by their boss' gruff voice, "Are you two done? Abby, what do you have?"

She smirked, glad to have the attention focused back on her work, "Well, judging by the contents of Seaman Wells' car, more so this bag, I think it is safe to say he was moonlighting as a stripper."

Abby turned to see Gibbs' eyebrows raised before she continued, "This bag is full of military and patriotic clothes that are by no means military issue, by a long shot. All of the seams are also velcro or snaps."

She pointed to the cargo pants which Ziva inspected visually while speaking, "I still do not understand why he wore the body glitter though."

A deep laugh left Abby, "Oh, it's all part of the appeal. It makes their bodies look that much more muscular and appealing under the stage lights."

Tony looked up with a red face from his scrubbing, one eyebrow quirked higher than the other, "Sounds like you might know a thing or two about Chippendale dancers, Abs."

Gibbs cleared his throat, commanding the small group's attention again, "Anything else?"

"I ran his blood, everything came back clean. Looks like he had a drink or two, but nothing hinky. I already looked over the clothing he was wearing when he was found and nothing out of the ordinary there either. Right now I'm focusing on the contents of his car for any leads or hints."

Gibbs leaned down, pecking her cheek, "Good work, Abs."

He strode out of the lab, leaving the others behind. Ziva finally broke the silence, "What is a Chipmunk dancer, and what would Abby knowing something about them make Gibbs uncomfortable?"

Abby and Tony laughed before Abby clarified, "It's called a Chippendale. They are male strippers. Famous for their rock hard bodies and only wearing tight black pants and bow ties."

Ziva winked as she finally understood, her mind making a mental image she could appreciate, "Oh, I see!"

Abby turned Tony's direction, smacking his hand and the paper towel from his face, "Stop! You are literally rubbing your skin raw!"

XXX

McGee looked up to his boss who was standing in front of his desk, "Hey boss. Abby find anything?"

"Yeah, I need you to dig into Seaman Wells' financials. Looks like he was moonlighting as a stripper. See if you can find any sort of money trail or pattern of large deposits that will lead us back to an employer or club."

McGee's reply of, "On it, boss," barely made it to Gibbs' ears as he walked out of the bullpen just as quickly as he had arrived. Ziva and Tony returned to the bullpen just a few minutes later, causing McGee to look up from his work, "Tony, what happened to your face?"

He scowled sitting down silently, ignoring the question, but cringing as he heard Ziva's voice flit through the air. "He had a _reaction_ to an article of Seaman Wells' clothing."

She bowed her head, trying to hide her face as she sniggered. "A reaction? Was it a perfume or dye, cause that looks really painful. I have an allergy cream. It's prescription, but I think it would help if you'd like to..."

"I'm fine."

"I don't think that looks fine, Tony. Here you..."

Tony's head snapped McGee's direction, sending him and his prescription back to his seat without another word. Ziva broke the tension as she spoke up, "Tony, perhaps we should look into finding the club for which Seaman Wells was working?"

He grunted in approval, scratching his cheek as he hunted and pecked at keys with his free hand.

Within twenty minutes, they had compiled a short list of male strip clubs within a ten mile radius of were the body had been found, two of which were within three miles of the crime scene, one of which was just a few blocks away. McGee had also found several large, cash deposits that had been made into Wells' savings account. They relayed the information to Gibbs with effortless precision before assigning themselves new tasks. His eyes made contact with Ziva while she spoke, "Tony and I will take his picture to the two closest clubs and see if anyone recognizes him, moving onto the others if they do not know him."

Gibbs looked at Tony, whose face was now scratched and covered in friction burns, "McGee, go with Ziver. DiNozzo and I will start working on notifying and interviewing his family, friends, and associates."

A pained squeak left Tony as his fingernails dug at the flesh of his cheek, stopping dead in his tracks as Gibbs barked, "DiNozzo, stop scratching your damn face! That man thong thing was clean! Now go see Ducky quickly and see if he can give you something to clear up what you've done to yourself."

McGee's wide eyes turned to Ziva, who bit her lip to hold back the hysterical laughter. She grabbed her gear as McGee printed a picture, meeting her at the elevator. She walked in and turned, pressing the down button before turning to McGee, "I will explain in the car."

McGee shook his head in disbelief as he could only image the story that would unfold.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry for the delay between chapters this week! Without going into too much detail, it has been a hectic and trying week. Thanks so much for the follows, adds, alerts, reviews, etc! I'm horrible about responding to them, but please know that they are greatly appreciated! **

Tears streamed down McGee's face as he drove, struggling to keep his eyes on the road, "You've got to be making this up!"

"Oh, I assure you I am not. Gibbs and Abby will verify the story for you, although Gibbs did not find it nearly as amusing as Abby and I."

"It's just too good to be true."

His hand came to his eyes, whipping away the moisture as he turned the wheel of the car into the parking lot of the club. They exited, standing in the lot briefly, taking in their surroundings as Ziva turned to him, "Should we try the main door first?"

Hey eyed the single car parked at the back of the lot alongside a chain-link fence, "Might as well."

McGee pounded several times while shouting through the heavy metal door, "NCIS! We need to speak with someone!"

After trying for several minutes they moved around to the back of the building, finding a door not ten feet from the parked car. Ziva began to pound impatiently, "Federal Agent! We need to speak to the owner!"

A few moments passed before McGee turned to Ziva, "Guess no one is..."

He cut off his sentence as she raised her hand between them to silence him while leaning into the door. She pointed towards it with her outstretched hand, resulting in him leaning against it with her. A hushed whisper of a conversation could be heard through the door, "I don't care who the hell is knocking. They can come back during business hours if it's that important."

Ziva decided she had enough, "Or we can come back with a federal warrant! If that is the case there will be no business hours this evening!"

She continued to lean against the door, listening as an exasperated, "Fuck," fell from a voice followed by lithe footfall. She up-righted herself as a series of locks twisted and slid. McGee and Ziva placed their hands on their guns, unsure what would be waiting for them on the other side of the door. As the door open she masked a befuddled face, looking down several inches to a petite man, "Can I help you?"

"Yes. I am Agent David and this is Agent McGee. We are from NCIS. Is the owner here today?"

"Yeah, you got'em. And?"

Ziva turned to McGee is disbelief before turning back to the man, "_You_ are Avery Poole?"

He mumbled under his breath as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, "Here is my identification. Believe it or not, Avery is actually a unisex name."

Ziva looked over the license, "I am just surprised to see that a man owns this club."

"I saw an opportunity in the clubbing and nightlife market. Took advantage of it."

She handed the wallet back, "Ah, I see. We need to ask you a few questions regarding a case we are investigating."

He rolled his eyes, "Well, go on with it."

McGee stepped forward having had enough of the man's attitude, pushing the door the rest of the way open, "We can either do this here cooperatively, or we can take you back to NCIS."

Avery sighed heavily, "Fine. Come on in."

XXX

Ziva opened the file, sliding the service record photo across the bar as McGee spoke, "Do you recognize him?"

"Yeah. That's Josh. He comes in once a week or sometimes he'll go out to a private party if he's requested or no one else can go."

McGee turned to Ziva and back to Poole before continuing, "Did he work last night?"

"He was here for both shows. The ladies seem to enjoy the whole 'man in a uniform' thing he has going on. Hey, uh...what kinda trouble has he gotten himself into?"

McGee looked up from his notes, "Where were you at two o'clock this morning?"

"Am I under investigation for something? I'm starting to get the feelin' I might want an attorney here."

Ziva looked at him suspiciously, "Are you feeling a little guilty about something?"

"No. I just want to know what the hell is going on!"

"Seaman Jonah Wells," McGee pointed to the picture Poole identified as Josh, "was found in a parking lot just a few blocks from here early this morning."

The color ran from under the man's spray tan as he sat on a bar stool, "Jesus! What happened?"

McGee answered, "That is what we are trying to figure out. So, can you tell us where you were this morning?"

"Yeah, I uh...well, the last show finishes around one a.m., and then at one-thirty we clear everyone out. I locked up the doors when the last customer left and we started cleaning up. The dancers are responsible for maintaining their own space in the back, so once they've cleaned up what they need to they leave. The bartenders, bouncers, and bar staff clean up out here. Last night I was in my office until almost three balancing books and preparing bank transactions for today."

Ziva seemed satisfied with his reaction and alibi, "Can any vouch for your whereabouts?"

"Yeah, my bouncer. One of them always stays until I'm in my car. I'm the last one to leave every night."

McGee looked up again, "We're going to need his information so we can contact him."

"I can do better than that for ya. Hey! Gordy!"

A burly man came towards the bar a minute later.

XXX

Ziva and McGee rummaged through the Seaman's area in the backroom while they bagged and tagged and took photos, only looking up as Poole interrupted, "Are you two finding everything alright?"

Ziva glanced his way, "Yes, we are thank you. May I ask, did he have any problems with other dancers, employees, or customers?"

"Not at all. He came, danced, and left. Never got messed up in the drugs and drinking. Never, to my knowledge, got involved with the customers outside of work. He was a good guy...just wanted to make some extra cash."

McGee perked up, "Do you know why? Any reason in particular he was looking to make money?"

"Not at all. Most of these guys are working off debts, but he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. Seemed to just want to add to his income."

Ziva sealed the last bag of belongings and watched as McGee nodded. They moved towards the backdoor, McGee handing Poole a card, "If you can think of anything else, or having any other information, please do not hesitate to call."

They stepped out of the door, Ziva staling while she thought for a moment before turning back towards Poole, "He did not use the parking lot that adjoins the club?"

"There's limited parking in the neighborhood, so I don't let my employees use the lot during business hours. If there isn't parking, we don't get customers."


	4. Chapter 4

**My apologies for the delays in posting chapters! Life has been testing me, but I'm on a mission to finish this story during the two week hiatus between new episodes! **

Tony sat on the edge of the desk as Palmer rubbed antiseptic cream onto the raw flesh with cotton swabs. He winced and whined while swatting away Jimmy's hand, "Ouch! You don't have to rub so hard!"

Gibbs turned away from the autopsy table, taking in Tony's antics before raising his voice, "Rubbing hard's what got ya here in the first place! Suck it up or you'll have something to whine about, DiNozzo!"

Tony pouted in silence as Jimmy continued his work, allowing Gibbs to turn his attention back to a humored Ducky, "Find anything?"

"I thought you'd never ask!"

Ducky moved around the autopsy table, positioning himself at Seaman Wells head, "Tony was correct in his assumption that the victim was strangled with a rope. The cause of death though, was the occlusion of the carotid artery. This resulted in a stroke."

"Ziver mentioned a lack of defensive wounds..."

"Yes. Our dearly departed Seaman would have fought at first, but the onset of the stroke and lack of oxygen from the strangulation would have made it difficult to fight much, if at all."

Tony saddled up to his boss' side, "Ziva and I thought that maybe Wells knew his attacker or was caught completely off guard."

Gibbs turned to Tony and then back to Ducky, "Did you find any evidence of a struggle?"

"We sent any material from under his nails to Abigail, but there was not much aside from dried clumps of the glitter that was on his body. We did, however, find a solitary blue fiber embedded in the skin of his neck. Presumably from the rope that was used to strangle him. Other than that, there are very few defensive wounds. A mostly some small scratches on his neck and shoulders, which would be from himself as he struggled to get the rope from around his neck."

Gibbs sighed heavily, swirling the coffee in his hand. He did not like the feeling that was beginning to pool in his gut. This case was not going to end easily unless Ziva and McGee had caught a break.

XXX

Martha Wells sat at the head of the table in the conference room, sniffling and wiping away an errant tear as Gibbs and Tony entered the room. "Mrs. Wells. I'm Agent Gibbs, this is Agent DiNozzo."

Both agents sat, watching silently as her tears came more frequently. Gibbs passed her a tissue, "We're sorry for your loss."

A shaky, "Thank you," left her before she continued thoughtfully, "Jonah was all I had left in this world."

A heavy sob left her, her shoulders shaking as she tried to control her emotions, "I lost my husband to cancer three years ago. Jonah was doing everything he could to help me."

Gibbs nodded with understanding, "Do you mind my asking how he was helping you?"

The tissue brushed her nose as she took a deep breath, "My son moved home shortly after John died. He insisted on paying part of the bills since he was living at home again. I didn't want him to do that - move home or pay me to live in the home he grew up in. I was afraid he wouldn't live his own life, make a future of his own. In the end thought, it was what I needed, whether I wanted to admit it or not. I never would have survived financially. I never went back to work after Jonah was born. I never would have found work having been out of my industry for more than twenty years."

They all sat in silence for a few moments before Gibbs broke it, "Did Jonah have any enemies, or anyone he seemed to have trouble with at work or in his personal life?"

"Oh, goodness no! He would come right home from work. We'd have dinner together. Sometimes a work colleague would join us. Some of those men and women are so far from their homes and families. I wanted all of them to know they were welcome and part of our family, especially at the holidays. Jonah knew they were always welcome if they were feeling homesick or a little down. Several had taken us up on the offer over the years. They were always so polite and thankful."

Tony broke into the conversation as she finished her thought, "How about after dinner? Did Jonah ever go out to the bars, movies, maybe see a girlfriend?"

"No never, much to my chagrin. He didn't date. He said that he could never find a nice girl. He would turn in as soon as we finished watching Jeopardy every night. That boy was in bed at seven-thirty on the dot every night."

Tony turned to Gibbs, giving him a subtle look before continuing, "What time did he leave for work in the mornings?"

"Well, I'm an early riser by nature, have been my whole life. I suppose it's genetic, because my Jonah was in the shower by three o'clock every morning. The sound of the shower and smell of his coffee brewing was what usually woke me up every day."

Tony made a mental note as Gibbs reached into his jacket, pulling his card, "Mrs. Wells, again, we are so sorry for your loss. If there is anything we can do, or if you think of anything you think might help us, please do not hesitate to call."

XXX

Gibbs and Tony came down the stairs, finding McGee and Ziva leaning into their respective computer monitors. "You two find anything?"

Ziva stood as she spoke, "Mr. Poole, the owner of 'The Man Cave' was actually very helpful, although it did not give us much to go on. Wells was working under the alias of 'Josh' while dancing there."

McGee began to fill in the details as Ziva rummaged through her notes from the visit to the club, "Our victim was dancing last night. Poole said the dancers finish around one a.m. and are free to go once their dressing room areas are cleaned up. Poole's time and whereabouts are accounted for. He was genuinely caught off guard and distressed by the news of Wells' death."

Ziva took over the conversation again, "It appears that he got along well with his coworkers and there was nothing suspicious in his belongings. Abby is processing them as we speak. Poole says that Wells had a good head on his shoulders and he said he feels that he was dancing to merely supplement his income."

"Boss, we did find out why Wells was not parked at the club though. There is a parking lot there, but because of the limited parking the employees have to find their own during business hours so the customers can park instead."

Gibbs nodded in approval of their findings before filling them in on what he, Tony, Palmer, and Ducky had found. "Seaman Wells moved home three years ago after his father died of cancer. He was helping pay the mortgage on his mother's home as well as helping with bills. She had no idea he was dancing at a club. He was strangled, but died of a stroke. Single blue fiber from a rope was found embedded in the flesh around his neck."

XXX

By the end of a work day that had an early start and late finish, there were very few facts that could be stated. First, Seaman Wells was moonlighting at a strip club as a dancer. Second, it was the club closest to the scene of the crime. The owner of the club had identified the man in the photo as 'Josh', stating that he had been working there for just a few weeks knowingly under an alias. Third, his family had no idea about his moonlighting, nor were they able to supply any substantial leads or enemies. From there the trail of evidence and clues ran cold. No finger prints or strange fibers had been found aside from the solitary strand of the blue rope. Abby wasn't able to find DNA in the material found under Wells' nails. No witnesses came forward. No security cameras faced the lot. All they had after a fourteen hour day was an overwhelming heap of no.

By eight o'clock that night, Gibbs and his team had hit the wall, and were getting on each other's last nerves, but most of all they were on Gibbs' nerves. He dismissed them curtly, "Go home. All of ya."

He hoped that a good night's rest and the fresh perspective of a new day might help a new clue or lead reveal itself. He would send them to the parking lot tomorrow to canvass the businesses and apartments. Perhaps there was a security camera they missed, or someone heard or seen something, but hadn't come forward yet.

XXX

The thought of a night of rest and a fresh perspective in the morning was short lived as they all met in an alley before the light of dawn the next day, the scene before them feeling eerily familiar. They worked in silence, Tony and Ziva bagging and tagging this time as McGee and Gibbs measured and shot pictures of the scene until Ducky and Palmer's arrival. The churning in Gibbs' gut went into overdrive as the whispers of 'serial killer' fell from his team's lips.


End file.
